What a Beautiful Day to Die
by PhoenixNoTreble
Summary: "You are nothing in the grand scheme of things.  Just a small cog in the murder machine.  You are a fool to think otherwise.  So kill me.  End my life.  I don't care.  Hell, I deserve it.  But remember – I am just a man."


**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, and it's probably a damn good thing I don't.**

It's funny how the smallest of details become vivid and sharp when death is imminent.

A blade of grass, a thick water droplet sliding off its tip to land with an almost imperceptible plop. The clouds, drifting by so slowly, nearly transparent, their cottony tendrils reaching across the sky. The calls of songbirds, carried by the light spring breeze, pleasant and cheerful. The ground, uncomfortable and firm, beneath a body contorted with pain and agony, lying pitifully in the shadow of his soon-to-be murderer.

What a beautiful day to die, in the worst of ways.

"I will give you a chance to pray, before I end your pathetic existence, alchemist." The menacing, coffee-colored man's red eyes were dancing with fire, a fire fueled by revenge.

The grievously injured soldier at his feet shuddered as he attempted to raise himself onto his knees, failing miserably. He gave up and resumed his former position, sprawled awkwardly and painfully against the dirt. He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, contempt contaminating his features. "God doesn't exist. He's a manmade ideal. A being to blame for everything that goes wrong, so humans don't have to bear the burden of knowing that they are at fault." He twisted his neck back to get a better view at his scarred assailant. "Even you must realize that."

"You alchemists are all the same. 'There is no God, there is only truth. There is no religion, only equivalent exchange.' If there wasn't a God, I wouldn't have been given this arm." He lifted his heavily tattooed arm, a canvas for complex formulas and alchemical arrays. "I was placed on this planet for a reason. To avenge my people's deaths and take the lives of those responsible. Now, face the consequences of your actions and join your fallen comrades."

The killer placed his calloused hand on the heaving chest of his victim, his fingers feeling the man's ribs. He pressed down, and heard a sharp gasp. He closed his eyes, envisioning the alchemist as nothing more than an asymmetrical splat, a dark stain standing out among the beautiful scenery –

"You are a coward." His eyes snapped open in surprise, the vision lost at the would-be-splat's remark. "You are nothing in the grand scheme of things. Just a small cog in the murder machine. You are a fool to think otherwise. So kill me. End my life. I don't care. Hell, I deserve it. But remember – I am just a man. And so is everyone else you kill. You aren't the hero you think you are." His victim glared at him defiantly, lips creased in a snarl.

The killer's eyes darkened considerably, and he released his grip on the miserable figure beneath him. "I never said I was a hero. Don't pre-"

"Why else would you be doing this?" His prey angrily exclaimed, cutting him off. "You said yourself earlier that your purpose was to kill me and the other state alchemists. That you're a weapon placed here by your God to punish the enemies of your race." The speaker paused to spit out another glob of red saliva in distaste, before continuing explosively. "But in reality – not in your delusional perception of it – you're a pawn that has about as much purpose as a speck of dust! You're… just… here! There's no reasoning behind it, no purpose to your existence. You're not a hero, you're not a savior, you're just a serial killer using religion to justify your actions!"

He broke off into a coughing fit, choking on blood and fluid as his entire body was wracked by spasms. Tears streamed from his eyes, creating rivulets that ran down his grime-covered cheeks. Viscous red leaked from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin. He was nearing his end; but he wasn't afraid. The determination and fierceness in his eyes was more than enough proof.

The first thing the scarred murderer felt was anger, raw and consuming, eating away at his thoughts like acid. He lifted his inked arm, hand clenched in a massive fist, ready to smash the brazen soldier's head in. But as he looked down at the obviously dying man, he found himself hesitating. For the first time since he cast away his name and set out to eliminate the monsters accountable for the crimes against his kind, he felt something stir within him. It was a sickening combination of self-doubt, apprehension and grudging respect. He gritted his teeth, his stomach churning as his emotions fought for control.

This alchemist was a different creature from any other he had encountered before.

Finally, he lowered his hand and his slumped forward on his knees, leaning over the not quite unconscious colonel. "You aren't going to kill me?" He slurred, his eyes only half open.

He was answered by a sigh, a simple exhale of air that held with it years of anguish. "My God, He would…" The killer licked his lips, searching for the right words. They weren't forthcoming, so he settled for second best. "It would not be honorable for me to kill you now." He wearily made his way to his feet. "Your comrades will come soon, no doubt."

He turned and started to walk away, before pausing and looking over his shoulder, his gaze settling on the bleeding man. "But be warned; this is far from over. I cannot forgive you, or the other state alchemists. Not now, not ever. The next time we meet will be our last." His words were heavy with foreboding, like storm clouds swollen with moisture.

The alchemist didn't respond, instead choosing to close his eyes and listen to the dull thud of his attacker's receding footsteps, perfectly in time with the dutiful beating of his heart. He could taste the blood staining his lips, harsh and bitter. The pain, so much pain, constant and burning.

"Colonel!" That voice. Beautiful and wrought with worry. He knew within moments that she would be kneeling by his side, assessing his injuries, calling for a medic. He smiled as he realized that he was going to be okay. He was going to be okay.

It was such a beautiful day to be alive. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?

**AN: Eh, I like this but at the same time I don't. I just feel it could be a million times better than what it is. This is my first published fanfic, so.. yeah. *shrugs***


End file.
